What James Wanted
by Jhazkrast
Summary: Why was James so mean to Snape? After finding out the truth, Harry realizes what he must do. For mature audiences only.


Harry paced up and down outside of Professor Snape's office in the dungeons. He was holding a rose, enchanted to glow as if the pollen were ablaze, and the finest selection of Honeydukes chocolates money could buy. For years now he had wanted to split the gold in his bank vault with the Weasley family, but now he realized that spending every galleon he owned on gifts for Snape was what his father had always intended.  
"It should have been from Snape's womb that I was born," Harry had revealed to Ron and Hermione yesterday in the Gryffindor Common room, finally letting his feelings out loud on the matter. "My dad only settled for that mudblood with the green eyes because he failed to win Snape's affections. But I won't."  
Everyone typically listened in on conversations Harry and his friends were having, just to make sure the stupid shit they got up to all year wasn't affecting them, so nobody missed a word. It had stunned the entire common room, all chatter dying and every head turning Harry's way, just how he liked it. Sitting in the cushy armchair before the fireplace, he felt like a king amongst his people – just the kind of man he needed to be to tame that greasy, hook-nosed prince. Fred and George reacted first, laughing quite loudly and congratulating Harry on cracking the most unexpected joke they'd ever heard.  
"You think this is a joke?" Harry had asked, rising from the shadowed armchair to reveal his laced dress robes. At that, not only did the twins guffaw even louder, but the rest of the crowd began to titter too. So they thought the dress robes he'd bought to look good for Snape were funny?  
"Let this be an example of mine and Severus' passion!" he exclaimed, and drew his wand before the Weasley twins had any idea what was going on. " _Sectumsempra_ _!_ "  
"GAH!" Fred roared in pain, twirling on the spot as blood burst from him in a majestic arc. Everyone began screaming, scrambling away as if a bomb had been revealed, as Harry next directed his wand at George. " _Crucio!_ "  
"AAHHH! HARRY STOP! STOOOP!" George screamed, writhing on the floor like a worm in the sun. But Harry didn't stop. Though tears streamed from his eyes, he kept a hard face and continued administrating the pain that George deserved.  
"DO YOU THINK I'M ENJOYING THIS?" Harry shouted, flicking his wrist a little so that George bounced around like a flopping fish.

"Harry, I think you're hurting him mate," Ron mumbled, but Harry pushed him away. By the time he was finished, the twins laid besides each other on the floor, and could have looked dead if they weren't groaning. Everyone had cleared the common room by now, except for Ron and Hermione, standing about nervously nearby. Harry rounded on them, and he noticed the pair abruptly close their mouths and turn to face him.  
"Interrupting something, am I?" Harry asked, still gripping his wand. Ron shook his head frantically, Hermione turning a bit pink and gazing down. "Good. You're still working on that potion to help Snape grow a vagina, aren't you Hermione?"  
"Yes," she squeaked, "it's almost ready. But... but you know, Harry, R-Ron and I were thinking..."  
"Excellent, really excellent!" Harry said brightly, rubbing his hands together. Imagining Snape in his embrace, Harry outstretched his arms to a pretend dance partner and began waltzing alone. He glided all around the common room in this trance, and whenever he passed the twins, he stepped upon them as if they weren't there, deepening their dying moans. "Won't be long now until I'm filling Snape's cauldron, just like my dad always wanted. Your potion better give him a nice tight one, Hermione. Would be refreshing for me, wouldn't it Ron?"  
Ron winced, and brought both hands to his bum. A small silence followed, within which Hermione seized a chance to speak. "A-About this potion, Harry," she began, but Harry chose this moment to continue, cutting right over her.  
"I know he'll love me in these dress robes," he said, twirling presentably on the spot before his friends. "But I've got to set the mood too, haven't I? So here's an ice breaker I've got lined up. DOBBY!" With a loud crack, Harry's self-proclaimed servant appeared before him: Dobby the house elf. Dressed in an assortment of bright and mismatched clothing, he gave Harry a deep bow.  
"Harry Potter, sir... Dobby is always pleased to-"  
"FUCK OFF!" Harry yelled, and though he looked very shocked, Dobby obliged instantly, vanishing with another crack. With a big grin, Harry clapped his hands together mightily and looked enthusiastically at Ron and Hermione, wondering why they weren't laughing. "Snape's going to love that one!"  
"Look mate," Ron said, stepping forward as if seized by a surge of courage, "we've got to talk." Harry's excited look quickly changed into a glower, and Ron paled in it's wake – especially when Harry fingered his wand. "There was plenty of time for talking when I was practising for Snape on your asshole, Ron. But all you wanted to do was cry."  
"Y-Yeah, well, i-it kinda hurt," Ron shrugged, his surge of confidence from before draining as fast as the colour from his face, "l-look, Harry. We've got n-nothing against you fancying other blokes, all right? I-It's just... it's... th-the thing is, mate..."  
"What Ronald is wondering," Hermione filled in for him, and Harry's leer shifted towards her, but she didn't shy away this time. Words began coming out of her mouth, but Harry wasn't listening. Who did this mudblood think she was, not being afraid of _him_? Harry Potter, slayer of basilisks, the Chosen One? A buzzing filled his ears, a rage flaring up inside of him, and he began snorting like a bothered bull.  
"...so even besides _all_ of those points, I really don't think Snape would want to... Harry?" Hermione asked carefully, taking notice of his growling breaths. Ron took Hermione by both shoulders as if to comfort her, but then sidled behind her like she were a shield.  
"Think you're better than me, don't you Hermione?" Harry asked, in a deadly calm voice that didn't match up with his angry face. "Yeah, that's right, Hermione Granger... little miss perfect, always telling everyone what they can and can't do. Just like that time in year three when you wouldn't let me ride that firebolt because 'S-S-Sirius Black might have sent it'!"  
"W-Well... S-Sirius _did_ send it-"  
"YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE ONE!" Harry roared, and as if his bellowing voice were a gale of wind, Hermione stumbled backwards, knocking Ron down with her. " _ACCIO FIREBOLT_!"  
Someone screamed upstairs, and then Harry's broomstick came whizzing out of the boys dormitory stairwell, Neville Longbottom impaled on it. Harry pulled Neville off, threw him with a shout of rage at his so called friends, and then mounted the broomstick. He couldn't kill Hermione because she was making the vagina potion for Snape, and he couldn't kill Ron in case Mrs Weasley stopped sending him presents at Christmas, but someone was going to be at the delivering end of the anger he was feeling. Neville didn't count, because his death satisfied nothing. Knowing just who to punish, Harry shot straight through a window like a bullet, shards of glass showering to the grounds below as he whizzed through the evening sky to a certain part of the castle.

Some time later in the Owlery, Malfoy was reading through a letter he'd just received from his father, Crabbe and Goyle standing dutifully nearby.  
"...so for the next two days, we have no presents to send," Malfoy muttered out loud, "on Thursday, however, your mother and I promise to send a bumper box of Zonko products to make up for it. Sincerely, Dad." Somewhere between shock and disgust, Malfoy read through the letter again, then scrunched it into a ball of parchment and tossed it angrily at the ground. "No presents for two whole days? Who does he think he is? My father will hear about this!"  
"You can forget all about the father you have," Goyle said, and then punched Malfoy so hard in the face that he twirled from the force like a ballerina before hitting the floor. Crabbe blinked stupidly, not sure who he was supposed to help, and Malfoy just looked utterly stunned. While the pair of them simply watched, Goyle drew a Chocolate Frog card from within his robes and held it up like a medal. 'Harry Potter', the card was titled, and the chosen one himself was smiling within. "This great man here, he is your _new_ father. Bitch."  
Far away in the sky on his broom, Harry was cackling as he controlled Goyle with the forbidden curse, 'Imperius'. Against his eyes he held a pair of Omnioculars, the same ones he'd purchased at the Quidditch World Cup not too long ago, and was utilizing them to watch Goyle punch Malfoy in the face again, again and again, always in slow motion. In fact, by the time he finished and returned to reality, the situation had quite changed. Malfoy and Crabbe were beating the shit out of Goyle, now a bloodied pulp, but he just lay like a lifeless puppet without Harry's input. It was a splendid sight, and Harry clapped his hands together in delight, letting his Omnioculars drop.  
"You've invoked the wrath of the Chosen One," Harry made Goyle say, blood burbling from his mouth as he clutched his Chocolate Frog card like a religious trinket, "bow to your father, as to your God, for Harry is all." Then, before Malfoy and Crabbe knew what was happening, Harry had front-flipped off of his Firebolt into the Owlery through a window. The broomstick kept going, pinging off a wall and finally lodging itself clean through Goyle's heart like a spear, killing him instantly. Harry wouldn't need to remove the Imperius curse now.  
" _Potter!"_ Malfoy hissed, drawing his wand as Crabbe readied his fists. "I should have guessed you'd be behind... what the fuck are you wearing?" There was no need to answer his question. Malfoy would come to see the majesty of Harry's pink, breezy dress robes if he defeated them with grace and style.  
"DOBBY!" Harrry cried out, and despite earlier events, Dobby appeared with a crack as obediently as ever. Again, the house elf bowed low.  
"Harry Potter, sir... please forgive me for-" Harry punted him like a football straight at Crabbe, making sure to raise his leg very high and spread out his arms, so he looked like he was performing a dance move. As Dobby screamed towards Crabbe, teeth bared and fingers outstretched like claws – for he had caught on to his master's intentions – Harry twirled on the spot to avoid one of Malfoy's spells, and then grabbed his crotch and pointed skyward before moonwalking to avoid another one. If only Snape could have seen him now, surely he would have begged to bear Harry's babies instantly.  
Dobby was busy tearing at Crabbe's face, causing him to lumber about uselessly... so, while Harry was distracted with dancing, Malfoy picked up Crabbe and threw him straight at Harry. Their heads clonked together, Crabbe passed out, Dobby flew out of a window, and Harry's wand slipped from his fingers as he slumped to the floor. It rolled along the mouse-bone littered ground, and Malfoy stopped it beneath his foot.  
"You've made a big mistake, Potter," Malfoy said, unrestrained triumph on his face as he stepped over with his wand pointed. But Harry, though he seemed groggy with a concussion, shook his head.  
"You can't win... Malfoy... I will... destroy you..."  
"Yeah?" Malfoy smirked, picking Harry's wand up so he could dual-wield and point both at his enemy at once. "You and what army?"  
"Me and my army," Harry responded, and then fifty or so Harry Potters began whizzing through the different windows on their Firebolts, jumping off in time so all the broomsticks stuck into Malfoy like harpoons. Before long, Malfoy looked like a human pin-cushion... and once every Harry had dismounted their brooms, they began pummelling Malfoy with their fists, booting him with their feet, even though he was already far gone from life.  
There was no need to thank himself, or talk to himself, because they were all of one mind. Recovering from his blow to the head, Harry stood up, and clutched the Time-Turner beneath his robes gratefully. Pretending he wanted to take extra lessons this year for the Time-Turner was the best decision Harry had ever made. Using it to fuck his past self in the ass for love-making practice had been very useful, at least until he worn himself out and had to start using Ron. "Speaking of which," he muttered to himself, and after yanking his Firebolt out of Crabbe's chest, flew off back to the Gryffindor tower.

Stars were twinkling beyond the common room windows now, as Harry enthusiastically shown Ron a diagram he had drawn of something on a sheet of parchment.  
"Freckles here, here and here!" he said, pointing to different areas of Ginny's pussy, which he had sketched in great detail. "Can you believe it? You ginger bastards are like dot-to-dot puzzles!"  
"Uh... I... I really... I don't want to know," Ron said very uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact, so he kept twitching and shifting. To pass the time in the wait for Hermione's vagina potion, Harry had done a little redecorating in the common room, to remind everyone of his own ambitions. A huge, shitty doodle of Harry and Snape holding each other's hands took up one wall on it's own, the stick figures hugging each other occasionally and doing little else, because wizard doodles were mentally retarded compared to the inhabitants of paintings and tapestries. All red and gold areas of the room – which meant very much of it, from most of the furniture to the carpet – had been magically changed to green and silver by Harry's wand. Green and silver was the new red and gold, if he were to make Snape feel comfortable. What made Ron squirm most of all though, was the fact that the corpses of his brothers, Fred and George, were hanging from the ceiling by their necks, as a reminder to everyone of what happened when they disrespected the Chosen One from now on. Very few people remained in the common room, and those that did sat as close to the walls as possible, shivering in the shadows. At last, there came the sound of scurrying footsteps echoing down the girls dormitory stairwell, and then Hermione appeared. In her hands, she held a big bottle of glowing, pink liquid.  
"Finally!" Harry said, snatching it from Hermione's hands and holding it possessively with both hands, eyes wide and mad. "So everything's good, right? This potion will make Snape grow a twat, no strings attached?"  
"Yes," Hermione said quickly, eager to mention something else, "but are you _really_ sure about this? Let me just say it Harry, we're sure you've gone completely insane, I mean look what you've done to Fred and George! We're so worried about you!"  
"Whatever, mudblood," Harry said, and then downed the potion in one.  
"NO, HARRY!" Hermione shrieked, yanking the bottle from his mouth and causing a lot to spill out, wasted upon the floor. "You're not supposed to drink it, _Snape_ is!"  
But it was too late. Grimacing in pain as the effects took hold, Harry staggered forward, grunting and gasping as he felt his broomstick and quaffles shrink away. As quickly as that, it was all over, and Harry pulled his pants out and looked straight into them in horror. Nothing but a vagina.  
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUCK SNAPE WITHOUT A COCK?" he shouted, and backhanded Hermione so hard that she exploded. Blood and gore sprayed everywhere, and the splatter pattern it left over the walls looked so good that Harry calmed down instantly. Rubbing his hands together, he wondered what else he could do to further improve the look of the room, nodding happily as different ideas came to him. Green, silver and blood was only the beginning.  
"H... Hermione..." Ron said slowly, dumbly, gaping at the spot where she had once stood. Harry patted him bracingly on the back.  
"Cheer up Neville – I mean, Ron - at least you've still got a cock. Listen, what do you think of adding a nice, big statue of me to... to..." Harry trailed off, as his unstable mind shifted back to his previous manner of thinking, redecoration forgotten. No cock? He had no cock? How was he going to fuck Snape without a cock? Ron had a cock...  
"Some friend you are," Harry said nastily, shoving Ron angrily in the chest, "don't you even have anything to say? 'Oh sorry you lost your cock mate, bloody hell, I want to fuck Hermione!' Well now she's fucking dead, so you won't be needing that cock of yours any more!"  
Ron tried to run, but Harry pounced upon him and tugged Ron's pants down. "You're mental, you're completely mental! Geroff me!"  
" _Diffindo!"_ Harry incarnated, and Ron let out a cry of anguish, blood hosing from his groin. Struggling was useless, so all he could do was cry as Harry held up the severed penis with glee before his face. "Good to see that _everything_ about you is long and gangly, Ron. This is a straight upgrade." As Ron watched in horror, Harry used a repairing spell to fuse Ron's penis over his vagina. Something about it didn't seem quite right – a cock, somehow being functional just because it was stuck to a pussy – so Harry recalled something he learned in a lesson he had yesterday, or something about his and Voldemorts wand being brothers, or something Dumbledore said, and then everything worked and was okay.  
"You've... you've completely... lost it... mate..." Ron murmured, uttering his last words as his veins ran dry. Harry waved him off in a disinterested way as he got to his feet. "...should have... stopped you..."  
"From fucking Mrs Weasley in front of you?" Harry asked, already forgetting what he'd just done as he pulled his own pants back up. "Oh, you mean slicing your dick off. Don't worry mate, you can just cut Fred's cock off and take his. That is how you do things in your family, right? Hand-me-downs?" Ron couldn't respond, as he had died. Taking one last look at the carnage around the common room, Harry saw that it was good, and then headed upstairs to grab he gifts he had purchased for Snape. It was time.

As ever they were, the dungeons were terribly dark, but the enchanted, glowing rose Harry held in his hand lit the way. Hermione's potion going to waste, upon reflection, had been quite a spanner in the works; even if Harry had regained a penis, Snape still couldn't have a vagina now, so he wouldn't be able to bear Harry's child. Luckily, Harry had formulated a new plan: after romancing Snape and convincing him of what must be done, he'd ask the potion master himself to concoct a vagina potion. It was so obvious that Harry was kicking himself all the way to Snape's office, lamenting how much sooner he could have killed Hermione in hindsight.  
Snape's office was close now, but it was then that a very familiar beard swished around the corner; Dumbledore, the headmaster himself. In his hands he held a large box of Honeydukes chocolates, and he looked very merry. "Ah, Harry, I daresay! Daresay! What, I daresay, brings you to the daresays? I mean, dungeons?"  
Leaving Dumbledore's mangled corpse behind, Harry checked the price tag on the chocolate box he'd just acquired, pleased to see they were very pricey. As if the rose wasn't good enough for Snape!  
"Here we go," Harry breathed to himself, and then rapped thrice upon the door of Snape's office. No response right away... Harry paced up and down, nervously squeezing at his gifts, which fucking hurt because the rose had thorns. Finally, the door opened up, and out peered Snape.  
"To what do I owe this disturbance, Potter?" he asked, cool and collected, "and why, might I ask, are you wearing dress robes? _Pink_ dress robes?" But Harry couldn't answer. How could he not be stunned, in the face of such beauty? Butter itself couldn't rival the yellowness of the potion masters teeth, and just looking at them made Harry quiver inside. He wanted to suck on that long, hooked nose and experience every blackhead against his taste-buds. Just how much oil could one head of hair hold? Surely enough to fill an entire cauldron, if one were to take Snape's long, black locks and wring them.  
"I've... I need..." Harry stammered, mouth as dry as cotton. Unable to express himself through words, but feeling as if he was going to lose Snape's attention, Harry did something drastic. He dropped his pants, and allowed his raging boner to spring loose. Why was it only now, that he realized Ron's stupid penis had freckles? How embarrassing!  
Snape stared at Harry for a full minute, unblinking, unmoving. It was terribly tense for Harry, either rejection or success hanging in the balance. Everything he'd done over the past few days had led up to this moment.  
"You look just like your father," Snape spoke at last, "except for your cock. You've got your mothers cock." Then Snape took Harry by the hand, led him into his office, and shut the door.


End file.
